


The Quiet and the Strong

by FrankiExtra



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankiExtra/pseuds/FrankiExtra
Summary: A young Quentin has a chance meeting with the masked vigilante The Ibex





	

**Author's Note:**

> Came from a masks rp game that somehow devolved into Counter/Weight au stuff

“Hello” Quentin said to the city. The boy, not a day over sixteen was standing on the roof of his orphanage.  
Getting up here was not hard. He just needed to be patient and quick. And luckily for Quentin, he was both.   
The night air felt nice on his face, his dark complexion reflected on a puddle next to him, a leftover of yesterday’s rain. Quentin sat on the ledge on the roof, the sounds of the city echoed through the night.   
The sounds of cars, people and the occasional siren crafted a symphony in the night. The sound of a car nearly crashing two blocks away got his attention.  
Two years, he had been living in the orphanage for two years. Since the car crash that killed his parents and changed his life. The near car crash noise made him leave the roof and go down the fire escape. It felt automated, his feed and hands working together, climbing and jumping down until he hit the street.   
When he finally got there, Quentin had to dodge a flying body that had been thrown in his general direction. His eyes followed the trajectory of where the body had come from and there was a man with a cape and a cowl making quick work of four men.  
He was fast, and powerful. Every punch he did connected with a quiet anger. He also moved like a shadow. It was enthralling, Quentin had never seen anything like that. Had it not been for the man on the floor by his feet bumping into him as he tried to get up, the man in the cape would have had his full attention. As it was, his focused went to the gun the man was pointing.   
Without hesitation Quentin tackled the armed man, not gracefully but with intent. They both fell to the floor. The next thing he knew the masked man was holding him up, all of the assailants knocked down on the floor. The black mask he wore was of a dear “No, an Ibex” thought Quentin.  
The Ibex stared at him and Quentin stared back, for what felt like an eternity but was probably not more than a moment. And in that moment Quentin felt a connection, an understanding, with no words but only silence. He could tell the Ibex looked like him under the mask, or maybe he just hoped that he did.   
But before Quentin could say a word, Ibex was gone.

A week later, Quentin was informed he would be leaving the Orphanage. No one seemed to have answers to his many questions only that it was done and a car would come to pick him up.  
The driver of the car, also knew nothing, or if he did he said nothing on the ride. When they finally stopped it was at an apartment complex, the driver gave Quentin a key, with the number 67 and took off.   
The apartment was large but sparse, there were few furnishings, a small kitchen, a couch, a bedroom with a bed and a closet. There was also a desk with a computer and a note  
“Welcome home Jerboa” it said.


End file.
